


Last Night's Dream

by theflowercrownedking



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Fluff, M/M, technically a modern au?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 10:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12746229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theflowercrownedking/pseuds/theflowercrownedking
Summary: In which James and Thomas share a divination class, and today's topic is dreams.





	Last Night's Dream

**Author's Note:**

> No betas we die like men.

It was a rainy September morning, and way too early for James McGraw to be sitting in a classroom amongst a gaggle of excitable third years. While they retained their youthful enthusiasm, the seventh year Gryffindor was instead consumed by the thought that he should have downed more coffee at breakfast. He wasn’t usually quite so disgruntled most mornings – with a high-ranking auror for a guardian, he wasn’t often afforded the luxury of lie-ins – but he… He hadn’t got that much rest last night.

Professor Trelawney was going off on one of her tangents, as she was known to do, and if James were the type of student to slump in his seat out of boredom, he surely would have done it. Instead, he settled for gazing idly out the window, thinking of nothing important; this was the good thing about taking Divination, he’d found. The actual subject was fairly useless, but the class was essentially a free period, and while Trelawney prattled on, students were mostly free to doze, daydream, or catch up on other work. It was one of the main reasons he’d elected to take it as an extracurricular.

All the seventh years were given the option to take extra OWLs should they want to boost their resumes, and after his third firm letter from Hennessey, James had sighed and given in. He’d already taken Care of Magical Creatures, and Study of Ancient Runes back in third year, so that ruled them out, and there was no way he was choosing Arithmancy, not with all those numbers. Muggle Studies was also pointless; he’d been raised by muggles up until age nine, when Hennessey had taken him in. That only left Divination, and after deeming it close enough to a free period anyway, he hadn’t minded giving up two hours a week for it.

As Trelawney managed to get lost on yet another tangent, his thoughts slowly drifted to the second reason he’d chosen Divination; a certain blonde Hufflepuff prefect who he’d heard he would be sharing the class with. No, he definitely hadn’t minded an excuse to spend two hours of his time with Thomas Hamilton. He wasn’t sure why his classmate had elected to take Divination, as, disappointing though it was, his interactions with the blonde was mostly limited to admiration from afar. A traitorous thought in the back of his mind reasoned that this shared class was the perfect opportunity to get to know him better but James quietened it; everyone knew that Hamilton was close with Miranda Barlow, a Slytherin girl that he was probably dating (Oh the scandal of a mixed-house relationship).

James huffed lightly to himself, because despite being one of the reasons James was attending this class, Thomas was notably absent from class. Girlfriend or no, there was no way to get to know him better, when he wasn’t even here.

As if summoned, the circular trap door slammed open, and a flustered looking Thomas Hamilton climbed up into the room, cheeks flushed and usually-perfect hair mussed.

It was reminiscent of the time James had fully realised his feelings towards the blonde; a couple of Hufflepuffs seventh years had reached out to the Gryffindors and suddenly a fortnightly tradition of Quidditch friendly matches had started between the two, with mixed teams from each house. By chance one week, James had found himself on the same team as Thomas, both of them chasers. He’d set Thomas up for a shot that he had executed perfectly, and unable to contain himself from sheer joy at the goal, he had let go of his broom with two hands to fist pump and roar _“Yes, Hamilton!”_

Thomas had turned to him then, grinning with cheeks flushed from exertion and so full of delight it was blinding. The sun had some out from a cloud at that exact moment and the sudden rays of gold seemed to make him glow; watching in awe, James had been hit with the realisation that maybe he was a little in love with Thomas Hamilton. This was shortly followed by an ‘ _Oh shit’_. James managed not to fall of his broom, but only just.

Brought back to the present day, he felt his own cheeks begin to heat as he listened to the subject of many of his fantasies hastily stumble out an apology. His mind provided him with a series of images of what could possibly be behind the loss of Thomas’ composure, but he caught himself; it was clearly because he was running to class, and it was inappropriate to think otherwise of someone he’d barely spoken to.

“Mr Hamilton, how lovely to see you in this physical realm, at last! Come, I knew you would be arriving shortly, so I have already marked you in, take a seat!” Mrs Trelawney’s frizzy hair flounced as she spoke and gestured to the array of pouffes and armchairs around the room.

He felt his blush deepen as, charming as ever, Thomas thanked the Professor before flopping down next to James on the sofa he’d commandeered from the third years when he’d first arrived. Thomas had quite long legs, and with both their legs spread like so, their knees brushed ever so slightly. James felt himself hold his breath, but Thomas barely even seemed to notice, and didn’t move his leg away.

As soon as Trelawney went back to teaching, Thomas turned his gaze to James and, with a smile on his face, mouthed ‘physical realm’ at him before quirking his brow.  A little flustered from the blonde’s attention, James returned his smile and subtly gestured around the room. If her phrasing was the oddest thing Thomas could think of right now, he wasn’t looking hard enough.

Trelawney drew the classes attention back to her then, finally starting the lesson they had all woken up so early for.

“Dreams,” she says, gesturing dramatically. “What _are_ dreams? Why do we have them? What do they _mean_?”

James was fairly sure dreaming was just something your brain did when it was bored and had nothing else to do, but Trelawney was blathering on about the clairvoyant nature of dreams. James, recalling last night’s dream, could only hope that it was prophetic. Remembering that the main star of last night’s reverie was sitting about a foot away, however, shook him out of such thoughts.

He was so preoccupied trying not to think of last night’s dream that he barely noticed when Trelawney told them to pair up and analyse each other’s dreams. He was distracted from his contemplation however when the Thomas turned to face him, pulling his textbook into his lap and flicking to the pages the Professor had written on the board.

Scrambling to do the same and at least appear like he’d been paying attention, he hadn’t quite prepared himself Thomas’ inevitable, “So what did you dream about last night then?”

James’ eyes widened as he stared at Thomas, the smile on his face and cheeky glint in his eye making James’ mind cycle though the various highlights of last night’s fantasies. “Uh,” God, did he know? He looked like he knew, fuck. “Quidditch.”

James managed to school his face into something more neutral, but he felt like Thomas could see through it.

“Quidditch, huh?” Thomas sounded sceptical. “I bet a lot of the boys in this room dreamt about Quidditch last night.”

Ignoring the dig, James tried to divert his attention. “What about you, what did you dream about?”

“Well, there was a niffler that somehow got into the boy’s dorm, and it kept stealing all of my clothes.” Thomas’ eyes were full of mirth as he began his tirade. “I needed to get to class but all I had was my underwear. I kept offering it all of my finest trinkets, trying to trade for my robes, but it wouldn’t take them.  It wouldn’t even take my Hamilton signet ring; can you imagine how shocked my father would have been? That such a ‘lowly creature’ didn’t recognise our ‘fine pureblood prestige’?”

Thomas put on a pompous voice to imitate his father, and James found himself laughing along with him. It seemed natural to laugh with Thomas, and he felt his nervousness at being so close to his crush melt away.

“Your subconscious has quite the imagination. Did you really dream all that?”

“No,” Thomas said, before raising his brow. “I dreamt about _quidditch_.”

And James could have sworn Thomas’ eyes had flicked down to his lips before meeting his eyes again. James was acutely aware that he was still warm and tingling with the sensation of Thomas’ knee pressed up against his own. It was impossible not to notice as Thomas put more pressure into the contact, and immediately he felt the mood change. A sort of tension rapidly filled the space between them as they stared into each other’s eyes and saw the truth behind them. In that moment, it was as if James and Thomas were the only ones in the room, the tower, hell, even the whole castle.

James felt himself lean in slightly, and he saw Thomas do the same, but before they could close any significant distance they were interrupted – Professor Trelawney sat in the armchair opposite them and asked them what progress they’d made.

James jerked back and fumbled with his textbook, while Thomas to his credit only remained flustered for a second before launching into an explanation on how James’ supposed dream featuring dancing centaurs signified his impending doom.

Seemingly satisfied with their progress, Trelawney turned away to go unnerve a pair of nearby third years.

James shifted, feeling a little wrong-footed after that almost-something that had happened between them. Was he supposed to acknowledge it? They were in class, nothing would probably have happened anyway, and oh god was his face doing that thing again?

James was very aware that when he tended to overthink things, he stared off into space with a fairly wide-eyed expression. It helped him process things, but it also made him look a little… Obtuse.

He snuck a glance to see if Thomas had noticed only to find him watching, with a twinkle in his eye and his thumb pressed to his lips, poorly suppressing a smile.

Clearing his throat, he tried to sit up straighter, impossible though it was. “So, dreams…” He glanced down at the page before him, but it might as well have been arithmancy for all he understood it.

Luckily, Thomas interrupted him before he could embarrass himself, waving a hand as if to shoo the topic away. “Just say whatever happened prophesises doom, Trelawney eats it up. Miranda predicted a classmate’s death when she took this back in third year, and she got an O.”

“Despite the fact that the classmate never died?” James found his nervousness receding a little, and his normal dry wit returning; he was always nervous around Thomas, until Thomas begins to speak, at which point James briefly melts in adoration, before returning to himself and replying like a normal person.

“Well, she was ready to put in the work if necessary, but it turned out she got the grade anyway.” There was the return of the famous Hamilton Grin, and James was reminded of how Thomas and Miranda terrified him sometimes. “But enough about that, are you coming to the next friendly on Saturday? Ashe is bringing some new Ravenclaw fling of his, who is apparently an incredible beater.”

James hummed noncommittally, before realising there was a question in there. “Oh, yeah probably, if I get my potions essay finished.”

Thomas nodded naturally, as if they’d always discussed plans together. “What about after, have you got any plans?”

“I thought perhaps I’d go to the Library.” He was about to ask where Thomas was with his Transfiguration essay, a safe and neutral topic, but he was interrupted before he could even open his mouth.

“Or, you could join me in Hogsmeade?”

James could feel himself making the face again, but he was too caught off guard to stop.  What did joining him mean? Would there be others there too? What would they be doing? Thomas had that charming smile on his face again, not even trying to hide his amusement this time. It was sort of unfair really.

“To Hogsmeade?” He repeated, dumbly. He was sure he hadn’t misheard, but surely Thomas Hamilton wasn’t actually asking him out?

“Yes. You, me, all the Honeydukes’ fudge you could wish for.” There was a teasing tone in Thomas’ voice

James did like Honeydukes’ fudge, but how did Thomas know that? This was sounding more and more like a date, but it couldn’t be, could it? They’d barely spoken, and Thomas was seeing Miranda… “And this would be a…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, but it was okay, because Thomas finished for him. “A date, yes.”

“Oh.”

He mulled this over, wondering how Thomas even knew he was gay, and what his relationship even was with Miranda, before realising the confident Thomas Hamilton was uncharacteristically quiet. He snapped himself out of his reverie, and saw that the golden boy seemed a little unsure of himself.

Realising he hadn’t given answer yet, James reached across to grab Thomas’ hand and reassure him without thinking. “Yes. Of course, I’ll go with you.” Thomas grinned at him, and he continued “I have a lot of questions, but yes.”

James doubted he could ever say no to those soft blue eyes and oh, he might be in deeper than he thought. Thomas turned his palm over so he could interlink his hands at the exact moment James realised he was, in fact, holding his hand to begin with. James felt a flush of embarrassment before remembering that hang on, Thomas must like him back.

He smiled at Thomas, who was beaming back at him.

“Brilliant,” Thomas said, and he could hear the genuine emotion in his tone. But of course, because it was Thomas, he couldn’t just leave it there. “We can talk all about _quidditch_.”

James felt himself flush with the memory of his awful cover up earlier, but he was saved from having to respond by Professor Trelawney, who drew the classes’ attention once more. He turned back to her, but not before giving Thomas’ hand a short squeeze. As he let the Professor’s rant wash over him, he got lost in the feeling of Thomas returning the gesture and letting his knee settle against James’ once more.

Maybe Divination wasn’t so useless after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Me: huh theres potential for angst here...  
> Also me, blasting Earth Wind and Fire's September and Toto's Africa simultaneously: fuck angst, only fluff
> 
> I wrote this periodically over the course of a few months,... I hope that's not too obvious and that it flows okay...? dang uni kicked me in the crotch when it comes to free time to write in.
> 
> ALSO HOUSE DISCOURSE TIME:  
> James as a Gryffindor: Young eleven year old James wants to make Auror Hennessey So Dang Proud, and hes always going on about how the brave lions are the most admirable house.  
> Thomas as a Hufflepuff: Imagine Thomas finding a family in the house that his father hates and thinks of as incompetent, and having the Most Hufflepuff pride you could Ever Have, as one big fuck you.


End file.
